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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839890">It's My Heart (That Pounds Beneath My Flesh)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denzer/pseuds/Denzer'>Denzer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:41:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839890</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denzer/pseuds/Denzer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>There is no reaction. No emotion. The edge of his mind is nebulous, like he's dreaming. He <strong>thinks</strong> he's dreaming. He thinks the vision of her racing toward him across a torn battlefield is a figment of his fractured mind, something he conjured to comfort himself. He has done that before.</em><br/> </p><p>A post TLJ story based on a prompt by midwinterspring for the Reylo Jukebox Exchange. It's based on the song Fumbling Toward Ecstasy </p><p>I love this song and I hope they enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.</p><p> </p><p>  </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kylo Ren &amp; Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey &amp; Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Reylo Jukebox Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's My Heart (That Pounds Beneath My Flesh)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwinterspring/gifts">midwinterspring</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>it's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Rey is in the black above Brentaal when Kylo Ren falls.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She can't hear the raised comm-chatter at first, focused on hiding Poe's maneuver between two Star Destroyers. She is one with the Force, in the space between all things, where everything is nothing and nothing can touch her. The Falcon is blank space. She is invisible, as is the massive payload in her cargo bay.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Repeat, Cobalt One? You've captured Kylo Ren? Confirmation Required." There's a pause, filled with the stuttering static of a battlefield. "Finn, confirm!”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">They are passing the Bridge of the Venator-class ship when Poe's confused demand for authentication catches her attention and she is pulled from her trance. The Master of the Knights of Ren is supposed to be on the Conqueror, on the very ship before them, not planet-side, where Finn's ground troops sweep toward their surface targets.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Poe drops the ship beneath the laser-fire, calling a harsh reprimand to where Rey sits crossed-legged on the floor, just outside the cockpit.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Some warning about dropping the invisible trick would've been nice, Rey.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Rey ignores him. She is concentrating, searching. The beginnings of full-blown panic are bubbling in her chest.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">She can't feel Ben.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">As soon as she'd slipped into the Force-trance, she couldn't make out his signature anymore. She was one with everything, her energy as cloaked as the ship’s. Command had relied on the intel they'd received on his whereabouts for this strike. He was supposed to be on the bridge of the Conqueror. But of course, he was in the thick of the battle, as Rey had known he would be.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She'd known it and she had bit her tongue as the Resistance had forged this plan for his downfall. </p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Breathing deep, Rey tries to calm herself. She must not have fully emerged from the trance. That has to be why she still can't feel him, or anything of the Force. She might faint. The absence of his constant rumble in her mind is unbearable, torrid and empty and burning.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Capture confirmed, Black Leader – we have Kylo Ren.” Finn's voice, marred by static, can't quite camouflage the disbelief in his tone.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“What's his status, Finn!”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Rey's voice is high-pitched and too loud as she screams into the comm. She doesn't remember rising from the floor, coming to stand behind the pilot seat. Poe's shoulders raise as if to protect his ears and he flashes her a confused look as he swerves the ship to dip beneath the oncoming debris.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Status... unresponsive,” Finn calls, “He's not moving, he's unarmed, and we've put the collar on him. Med-droid confirms acceptable heart-rate and blood-pressure levels. He's conscious but... Poe, he seems... out of it. Orders?”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He's alive.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Rey sinks into the co-pilot seat, focusing on picking up the thread of his Force-signature as her mind coalesces. She can't catch hold of his side of the Bond. He slips from her grasp over and over. It's the Force-suppressing collar, stolen in their last raid on Hutt territory. They'd lost lives for that collar. She'd agreed to test it for Poe, to confirm it would work on all Force-users, but Finn had refused to allow it. He'd stood bodily between her and the Command crew, nostrils flaring and arms tense.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Get that thing away from her, Poe. She’s not a lab-rat.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Now, she imagines the collar's dull metal flush against Ben's neck and her stomach churns. She listens to Finn's account of the capture as Poe navigates blazing dog-fights, all too exposed now that the Falcon has dropped from Rey's hold. The Supreme Leader, fighting well beyond the front line with limited support, had, for no apparent reason, fallen to his knees and extinguished his saber. They'd taken out the small guard that surrounded him and moved him, unresisting, to the edge of the battlefield. When he'd come back to himself he'd been frantic, reaching for a weapon they had already removed, calling out wordless rage as he reached skyward and let a blast of his energy rent the air above the battlefield. It had taken eight of the Resistance's strongest soldiers to subdue him until a med-droid could sedate him. Even then, Finn suspects, with his usual stubborn honesty, it was more Ren giving up than them bringing him down. They await orders.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Poe is watching her as he exits the main fray, headed toward the surface. She cannot decipher his expression.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Rey, I'm going to order his immediate execution,” he says, studying her reaction, and still, she cannot understand the expression on his face, “It's kinder that way, more humane than dragging it out.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Pity. It's pity in his eyes. But not for the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Pity for the Last Jedi. He knows. He knows, and he's going to kill Ben anyway.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Her hand reaches out before Rey is even aware of her own intentions and Poe falls back against the pilot-seat, unconscious. She fights a wave of nausea, dizziness that threatens to drag her under. She's drained, her Force-energy reduced to nothing.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Finn. Hold Fire. I repeat, cease all offensive action against Kylo Ren until I get there. ETA, twelve minutes. Hold Fire, Finn!”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Rey uses her hip to nudge into Poe's seat. His shoulder hits the durasteel floor with a thud that reverberates in her ankles but she ignores it, sliding into his place and inputting Finn's coordinates.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>if I feel a rage, I won't deny it</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Pass them to me. I'll keep them safe until you're settled.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She wants to laugh. She wants to punch his face. She wants to scream that it's been too long and she's not sure if she believes in him anymore. But he is looking up at her and he's softened the barrier around his mind just enough for her to see that he's telling the truth. He'll take the texts she can't fit in her scramble-pack and he'll give them back to her. There are klaxons flaring around her, the base will empty out in the next ten standard-minutes. Rey can only take what she can carry and she cannot fit the texts in her pack.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Ben lets her see more: he's already read them. He's read much more than this small collection. These are just the ones that survived him.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I meant what I said. Trust me.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Rey can't help it, she pushes further into him, taking more than he's consented to. She finds herself, standing over him as she is now, saber an inch from his chest but unlit, the line of her hip and the scar from the wound that had distracted him and her fucking freckles and if he could just stop feeling this, if he could just stop thinking about her face, soft in firelight, and her wide eyes as she rose from her knees, and her goddamned mouth, then all of this would be so much easier.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He cuts her off with a vicious snarl and holds out his hand, open and grasping for the texts, wordless and angry and betrayed, as he looks anywhere but her face.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Ben-”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He interrupts her whisper with another growl.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Give them to me or lose them forever. What choice do you have, Rey?”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>it's my mouth that pushes out this breath</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">The warfare in the upper atmosphere is distracting.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">The swooping runs of Black Squadron, the tail spinning tight formations of Red, the unyielding, direct rampage of Blue, and all those scattering TIE’s. Rey swerves through all of it until she reaches the southernmost battlefield. She had known he would be here, the site at the edge of the temple. He would have wanted to protect the icons of the Force embedded beneath the earth at this long-lost sacred place, now ravaged ground.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She leaves Poe where he lies, hooking a comm to her shoulder as she races down the landing ramp into the battlefield. It's been eight minutes. Eight minutes since she learned of his capture. Eight minutes since she emerged from the trance and found she could no longer feel him through the Bond.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">It has been two years since Rey's mind has felt like her own. It is awful, unbearable silence. She is empty, she is alone, and she is terrified.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Finn, status report!”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">No response.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Finn? All Infantry channels, where is the holding point for Kylo Ren? Respond!”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Nothing. Not from Finn, not from any of the ground troops. The combat zone is filled with laser-fire. Shredded earth hails down on her as she runs. Rey deflects blaster fire without knowing which side it comes from or where the bolts land. She is screaming his name as she searches for him. Finally, when her calls have turned to ragged sobs, she sees Finn. His lightsaber is in his hand, unlit and held to the side. There is a black shape before him that she would know in any galaxy of any universe. Ben is on his knees, chin raised but eyes downcast, like there is nothing worth looking for anymore.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>making darkness in the day</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“So where, then? If I can't take him to Ilum?”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Ben looks up from his datapad, one shoulder raised higher than the other, defensive despite him being the one with all the power, all the knowledge.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“There are other places. All over the galaxy. He has to meditate till it calls to him. You can't know until you feel it. Just guide him through until he finds it and then he'll know where to go.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He knows everything. He should be here, with her, teaching Finn, teaching her, like he'd promised. She tries the prod this angle, knowing it won't work.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“I didn't even know the concept of left and right until last year, Ben. Riía flows toward or against was my direction till then. I'm no guide,”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">The air huffs from his nose. It's his approximation of a laugh and there is a stirring in her blood now, on those rare times she hears it. She shuffles, tucking into the heated emergency blanket and wishing for just one-tenth of the warmth of Jakku on this ice-planet hell that serves as their newest hideout.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“It's not about you. It's about Finn. Your job is to open him up to the Force. You already know how frightening that is. And I assure you, your presence will be enough to calm his fear...”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">The only way Rey knows he has let something slip is by the fractional tightening of his knuckles on the datapad. His face betrays nothing. He is getting so good at that.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>All the fear has left me now</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Her comm isn't working. Rey hits the transmission stud over and over, but a tinkling warning signal meets her each time. She is racing across the torn earth, jumping craters and blaster fire and awkward white-armoured lunges. Her saber spins like a shield before her and there is nothing of her body but her training now. She is muscle memory and terror. She tries to comm Finn again, hears that same tell-tale click. It's Poe. Her hold on him had slipped somewhere in her run across the field and he is awake now, blocking her signal from the cockpit. The outline of Finn’s face is twisted toward his shoulder. There is that specific hardening of his spine that comes when Poe is asking him to do something he does not want to do. She gains ground, jumping a massive tear in the earth from a fallen TIE. Finn's features become more distinct through the haze of crossfire vapor as she gets closer. But she can't look at him anymore because she can see Ben clearly now.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He is watching her like she is an illusion. There is no reaction. No emotion. The edge of his mind is nebulous, like he's dreaming. He <em>thinks</em> he's dreaming. He thinks the vision of her racing toward him across a torn battlefield is a figment of his fractured mind, something he conjured to comfort himself. He has done that before.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>companion to our demons</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Ben?”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“I'm sorry. Please. Rey.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">His hips move again and Rey can tell he is trying to stop. But he can't. It's hot on this planet, muggy and constantly humid and she is wearing nothing but her grubby breastband and the basics she had taken from the supply closet. She blinks awake, confused and hot, to find that she has curled herself around him in her sleep, one leg thrown high over his hip. His hand grasps around her thigh, desperate and too hard and not enough and dizzying. He’s trying to close the Bond.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Ben. Wait.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“I can't. Rey. Shut me out. Please. Please.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">And she knows that's not what he's asking at all. He leans into her to press his forehead to her collarbone and Rey's fingers splay over his back. She crushes her mouth into his hair, swirls her cheek into the softness, and pushes into his mind like an instinct. He always lets her now. He's not lying, of course he isn't. He is exhausted, bruised and bloodied, too Force-drained to close the bond.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“We've found you again. Rey, you have to run.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"><em>Please stop running from me. I can't do this anymore.</em> He can't block her now so she pulls back from him, giving him privacy, and sends him a rush of comfort that eases the muscles of his neck instantly.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“How long do we have?”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Two days. You need to move out before the scout ships arrive. Don't wait, Rey, get out as fast as you can. The Knights are bored of this chase. I don't know how much longer I can protect you.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He is panicked at the thought of her safety. Rey can feel the thrum of it, strong enough to slip past her barrier despite his attempt to conceal it. He grasps her hips, trying to move her away and she can't help it any more than he can. She clutches at his shoulders, holds him in place as he pulses helplessly against her, twisting until she is fully beneath him.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He lifts onto his elbow to push her hair back from her face, his forehead so close she can only see the curve of his cheekbone. He is asking, she feels him hovering at the edge of her mind, pressing gently, needing the same from her that he allows over and over. And Rey wants. She wants all this to be over. She wants it all to stop. She wants to pull at the silk of his sleep pants and the scratchy cotton of her stolen briefs. She wants to feel him, to see him shudder with something more than regret or pain.  All at once, Rey drops the barrier that keeps him out and waits for him. He's holding still, and Rey can feel the fear rolling off him. Images of the last time, when she'd been chained. His shame floods through her like a living thing. It's all she can do to bring her fingers into his hair, soothe him with the touch he is so starved for.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“It's alright, Ben.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He eases forward slowly but all her fevered thoughts sweep through him at once and not a moment passes before he sends her everything too. It is so much more than she thought it would be. It is raging and tense and yearning. But it also feels clear, like they've both taken a deep breath on a green, green planet.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Rey. Please tell me you want this.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>You know I do.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">And then his mouth is angled, hot over hers and she can taste salt and the tang of blood and so much heat that she gasps. He is lost, clinging to her, his tongue sweeping hers and his mind as foggy and flaring as her own. He pulls the damp fabric of her underwear aside and slides his fingers against her. Rey’s hand has clamped around his wrist, moving with him, and there is only need, desperate and harsh. He runs tight circles that feel like flame and the war is far away, like a distant memory. There is nothing but this, nothing but him. She dips her forehead into the crook of his collarbone, breathing in hard tones that sound too high-pitched to be her own voice. There is an odd stretch of material pasted to his shoulder that distracts her. Field dressing. Where is he that he can't access Bacta? He speaks again before she can ask.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Are you sure?” His voice drags her back into the heated whirl. She can feel him nudge against her, striving to hold back.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Yes.” She slides one hand lower on his back, presses him closer. He pushes into her, desperate and too fast. There is white light in the darkness of her room, burning. Her cry drowns his low grunt and he tucks her against him, holds himself still, trembling. He soothes her with soft nudges: his chin to her temple, his nose in her hair, roving to kiss her forehead, her cheek, her ear. At first, when he moves, Ben is hesitant, afraid of hurting her. When she shoves into his mind, she leaves her own completely open so he can feel this with her, letting him see the deep need that mirrors his own. He slips a hand beneath her to shift her thighs further apart.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Ben seems to come to his senses as she loses hers. He rises over her, resolute and stoic and somehow more himself than she has ever seen him. He smoothes her hair back, trails his hand over her side and down between their bodies. He moves then, relentless, searching, pushing deeper, edging her legs apart with his elbow. His whole body flows, shifting over her, darkening the dim light of her room, covering her until he is all she can see or feel or taste. There is flaring heat, in his mind, in his fingers, in every part of him that touches her. And Rey is clinging to it, using it to pull herself forward, higher, arching into him.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She is weightless and spiraling upwards and the deepest part of her is afraid. He feels it, and soothes it the only way he knows how.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>I'm here. I'm with you.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She gives him an elongated moan because she can't respond, even through the Bond. He hears her anyway and his fingers keep a steady pace, right where they are. She wants more and Ben is thrusting harder before she can finish the thought. He already knows what she wants, he already knows every part of her that is firing and tensing, curling her fingers and her feet and her knees and her spine.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Without warning, he lifts her, holding her up on the teetering edge of his arms and she leans back to keep herself aloft against the bed frame. Her hips dip as he pulls back, shove higher as he pushes forward. She does not recognise her own voice, that stuttering, gasping inhale, that hoarse cry, that moan that sounds like his name. There is something desperate in his grip now, a manic edge that pulls in his chest and emerges through gritted teeth like a snarl.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Rey. Let me feel it.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">There is the grind of Ben’s pelvis against that spot he knows is sparking and the slide of his tongue along the slope of her breast until he is only heat, only want, only higher and more and burning and fear and all that torturous need.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">And then she is on fire, a roaring blaze, dropping back against the pillows because her body can’t do anything but feel this. Ben is above her, moving like there is no more time, spilling into her with a series of short needful cries. She is tearful and trembling and Ben is resting his head on the pillow, his weight against her, releasing errant bucks into her like he’s trying to comfort them both. And he is whispering her name, like a plea or a prayer.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Ben,” she whimpers into the softness of his hair, “how much longer?”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He doesn't answer, tucks his mouth hard against her skin.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>I won't fear love</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Finn, stop!”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She won't reach them in time. Her choices line up before her as Finn angles his saber in a high arc above his shoulder. The line of his form will take his swing toward the exposed neck of the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Ben is looking at Rey, unconcerned, resigned. He still can't feel her, the collar is suppressing her presence. To him, she had dropped from existence when she entered the Force-trance. To him, she is already gone. Rey watches him tilt his chin higher, waiting for the strike.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She stretches out her hand toward Finn, trying to shove him away. But the trance has left her empty. She cannot stop him. There is a blaster at the small of her back, Han's blaster, but even as the thought occurs to her, Rey knows she can't shoot. Not to kill, not to incapacitate. She cannot fire at Finn. There is only one option left and she runs faster, pushing the muscles of her legs harder than she ever has before, racing on pure adrenaline. She's close enough now to hear Poe's voice over the com, ordering him to execute, to take Ren out, to win this war.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Finn follows his directive.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">It is so close. A split second as her saber comes to life in her hand, reaching aloft, sliding to her knees between them.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She had counted on Finn following through with his swing so her saber would catch against his and slide along the angle of her arm. But she had not calculated Finn's reaction. She hadn't foreseen his inability to follow through and strike her, how he would drop the arc, trying desperately to pull back. She had not predicted how her wrist would sweep through his dropped blade when her own failed to connect.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">There is a flash of searing heat and a sudden jerk of shifting, unbalanced weight and a moment where she stares at her severed hand, still holding the hilt of her saber. That moment is filled with screaming that is not hers. Twin roars of rage, of shock, of guilt and despair and horror, and it's all she hears as she falls back against Ben. She doesn't know how he catches her, his hands had been restrained behind him. But then, he had always overcome the odds when it came to her.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Finn still wants to kill him.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Rey can see it, even through half-lidded, burning eyes. He is already turning the saber in his hand. He is convinced that the Supreme Leader, Ben, the man whose arms are wrapped around her and who’s shaking, wrenching breath she can feel against her back, has caused this. Finn’s horrified gaze jerks from the cauterised stump at Rey’s wrist to the face that hovers over her shoulder. She tries to speak, to call out to her best friend, wishing she had not kept this secret but knowing that if she had told anyone, the plan would have died in a Resistance Command centre, where a committee would have left him alone out there in the deep of enemy territory. </p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">The blade rises and Ben stiffens, pulling back from her, trying to move her away from the danger. She can’t speak. There’s not enough time. She lifts her off-hand and raises it toward Finn. There’s only one way to convince him and after a moment, Ben’s hand reaches out too, lined up with hers, their fingers stretched toward Finn’s face, their minds brushing and meshing and pushing forward together. Finn’s determined expression wavers, falls to shock, to pain. </p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">It’s an assault of sorts. Hurling memories and feelings and plans and thoughts, moments that were private but that have to be displayed if Finn is to believe any of this. Rey has so little left and Ben is restricted by the Force suppressing collar. It is an impossible, desperate act of faith. </p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western"><em>There is the Force. </em>Rey hears it in her own voice and in Ben’s deep rumble. It is the last thing she hears before the exhaustion and pain claim her. Later, when Finn talks about it, he will do so with a voice that is just a little softer than normal. There will be a thread of disbelief in his tone, of wonder, every time he speaks of it.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“They told me everything,” he’ll tell Poe, “through the Force.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">That conversation will be the only reason that either of them survives.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">* * * * *</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“I’m not leaving her side.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">It's Ben's voice, soft and quiet and resolute. Rey can't open her eyes, something is holding them closed and her body is too heavy, like her blood is thickened, holding her still.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“They're ready for her...” Finn pauses, as if he has no idea what name to use, “The surgery should take an hour, at most. I need to take her, now. Step back.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“I'll take her. Show me where to go.” Ben's voice holds that same tone, that same unflinching quiet timbre, and Finn's response carries an edge.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“You'll be recognised, it's not safe for you here...” another long pause and Ben's deep, steady breathing reaches through the fog of her mind, stretching out until Finn fills the void.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“OK, you're not leaving her, I get it. Follow me.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">* * * * *</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">When Rey comes to, Ben is meditating beside her. His hand covers her wrist and the weight of his palm is warm and comforting and real. She moves her fingers and cannot feel his skin, though the sensation is there a moment later, the signal between her hand and her brain re-establishing itself.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“It's the best we could find,” he tells her. “The most responsive cybernetics and I'm almost finished healing the wound around the nerve receptors. It should feel almost the same.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">His voice is low, strained, like he's speaking over a lump in his throat. As she watches, he swallows and steadies himself.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Where am I?” she asks him and there is a flash of recognition from him that he tamps down as he answers her.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Tion Prime. You're safe. Finn will be back soon.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Rey smiles because he used Finn's name so casually. She must have been out for some time. They must have talked and she wishes she could have been awake for that. Ben is still holding her hand, watching her face for signs of discomfort. He stares, unblinking, for so long that his dark eyes get a glassy look.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“I couldn't feel you. I thought you were dead.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“I was shielding... I'm sorry.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He leans forward, hunching in on himself and his fingers tighten around her injured wrist. He is right, there is no pain, it feels just the same now that the initial connection period is passed. His palm is warm, dry and callused where a saber would rest in his grip. He's real.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“You're sorry,” he says and Rey's stomach jolts, unsure if it’s anger she's hearing in his tone. But his hand presses hers and he brings the thin red line on her wrist to his mouth, runs his lips over it.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“I should have warned you,” she tells him, “You would have, for me. But I was afraid you'd try to scramble the ship, to save as many as you could. I was afraid you'd blow your cover and never get out.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He is smiling into her palm now. And when he meets her eyes there is that same glassy look.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Well, I'm out now. What will you do with me?”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>peace in the struggle</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“You're awake.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Ben nods, pushing to his elbows. The Throne Room is in flames, rubble burning, blood-slicked floors.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Have you come to your senses?”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">He has.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">Rey had positioned herself behind his head so when his eyes had first opened, he'd thought she'd left. That he'd lost her, thrown her away for an empty seat in a failing ship. It had been enough.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“OK, Ben. Let's go.”</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">She reaches down to him, holding out her hand with a small, ironic smile. But he doesn't take it, watching her expression fall.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">If he leaves now, with her, Hux will take the First Order to heights of his own choosing and there will be nothing that a tiny band of ratty, broken Resistance fighters can do about it. He'll be chased down with the full power of the First Order, as will Rey. If he wants to live, for her to be safe, he is going to have to destroy what he’s helped to build.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">“Not yet, Rey,” he tells her.</p><p class="western">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="western">The uncertainty trembles in her features but Ben rises from the floor anyway, pulling off his glove to place his hand against her cheek. He knows the odds, how hard it will be to bring about the fall of his own empire. He'll probably die. She will probably lose faith in him, in time everyone does. But he urges her toward the bank of escape pods at the back of the room anyway, talking with a confidence he does not feel, convincing her his plan will work. He wants to kiss her, he wants to run, he wants to wrap his arms around her and hide. But, he won’t.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He knows what he needs to do.</p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks for reading this!<br/>Huge appreciation to WhiteRoseRed for being such a lovely, diplomatic, genius beta and for forcing me to join Reylo Twitter.<br/>(please feel free to say hi @denzerwriter)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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